The strange things

This ennui leads us to strange things. Ennui and a bit of fear of the unknown.

Unknown

My friend made this

That's my friend and I..

Ducky

Here's what I made for a dear friend who's going to have a baby next month.

I had so much fun making it!

colour

The fledglings are ready to fly.

Gosh, it makes me so sad, you know.

That's the way it is, then.

A little busybody :)

Back from Diu!

It was superb, as always.

Had a fall, but I'm almost fine now.

Here's some photos!

Untitled

A quiet has descended.
Clouds have risen.
Empty empty empty
empty empty
empt
empty empty.

No, not a soul in sight.
Each activity in the day is complete in itself.
Chai comes and goes like a faithful lover doting on me.

This joy?
This sorrow?
This anxiety?
This calm?
This hallucination?
How do I name it?

And where?
I spent some hours in the bookstore today but it wasn't there either.

So then?

The day starts off a peach.
Somewhere
around noon
it becomes about four shades darker.
How do you explain this?

I have noticed one thing lately, pondered over it, and come to this conclusion.
People who do not read literature or almost any other kind of books are 'different' from those who do, in moral character.
I would elucidate and give fresh examples from my chai break only minutes ago but that is another matter.
No literature = Strange moral character.